Crumbling World
by HareBear
Summary: The world is on the verge of war, once again. Nobody's sure what to believe, or what to do. All that's certain is Arthur isn't looking very good and the person responsible is Ivan. America cries for blood. And there will be.


"We're here, wankers!"

That tacky Englishmen's words stir me awake, and I nudge Feliciano to wake up.

"Where are we?"

He asks, and he gets some probably generic answer from Arthur. I almost bump my head against the ceiling trying to sit up, and take a look out the window. Our chopper circles around a helipad four or five times, and land quite well, for the American piloting it. Excuse me, Canadian. I turn my head to the left, and see Mr. Vargas stretching and yawning almost violently. I turn my head straight and see an unhappy Arthur, next to him Alfred. I guess that's why he's unhappy. We're all dressed in elegant suits, with ties representing each of our country's flags.. Arthur opens the door to his left, and we follow his example, stepping out. The cold air passes through us, and everybody exchanges a few shivers. I examine the unfamiliar area we're in, and frown. It's nighttime, probably seven or eight o'clock. The traffic below us is bustling with activity, and dozens of ant-sized citizens are gathered around the entrance of the building we've landed onto. Alfred laughs,

"Everybody else has to make their way through THERE! Luckily, Canada's flying lessons pulled through."

Then I realize where we are. Washington, DC. It's America's turn to host the World Meeting this year, and in celebration, he "let Matthew" pilot us there. He asked me to go, and to bring a friend. So I picked Feliciano, and England, angry he wasn't invited, insisted on coming along, too.

"How'd I do?"

Matthew asks, anxious for Alfred's answer.

"Pretty good! Not as good as mine, of course."

He answers, as a few security guards direct us where to go. England nods at them sternly, and yells at us to hurry up. I bow to them, and follow Alfred, who's behind Arthur. I notion Mr. Vargas to follow as well, and he skips along.

"I wonder what's gonna happen this year! I love these meetings, they're so fun! All of our friends, together in one room!"

A short while after the Italian began his rant, we arrive at a very large room, with tall windows at the end, revealing the buildings across from us. The carpet is a bright red color, underneath a long U-Shaped table, with chairs lined up to it. Each are labeled with a particular country's flag. Many representatives who have already arrived have taken their seats and are waiting for the meeting to begin. I slowly make my way to the chair with the calm, white flag, and red orb in the center and get comfortable. A few moments later, other countries arrive. The first is a tall, grey haired man with an eerie smile and a strange scarf. Ivan, if memory serves. I've been very suspicious of that man, lately. And so has Alfred. Those two have been very on edge with each other once again lately, and it's raised concern amongst everyone. He's been mentioned quite often lately. And that's not a good thing as of the moment. There are two women next to him, one clinging to his arm strictly, and one waving to everybody in the room politely. After them, Francis enters the room. I'd rather not talk about him. Then Ludwig enters, dressed in a military uniform, unlike everyone else. After that, the doors close. There is a long, eerie silence in the room followed by Alfred and Arthur exchanging a few words. Alfred stands.

"Well, let's begin the meeting! Or, whatever."

He sits back down, seemingly happy with his speech. Everybody shares the same confused expression. Arthur stands, irritated.

"AHEM. Thank you all for attending the yearly World Meeting. This meeting is to discuss anything and everything concerning our fellow countries well being of everybody, ensuring happiness and strength among our friends and colleagues. I'm sure Alfred is honored to have you all here today."

He gave a proper speech, one that Alfred should've given. He sits down, and Ludwig stands.

"I believe we should address the issue between America and Russia. I think everyone wants to know what's going on."

He states, and I begin to fear what happens next. Ivan stands.

"I do not know what you are talking about, Mr. Germany."

I glance over to America, and he looks frustrated. My fear grows.

"Ivan, it is believed there has been much tension between you and the USA lately. You can't deny that. There have even been talks of war, lately. Don't pretend this isn't a concern."

Wang-Er, Mr. Yao stands.

"We have come here to discuss political issues, not to start another Cold War!"

"Oh I assure you that won't happen again."

Russia grins, and it sends a shiver down my spine. America bolts up, angered.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means if we start another war, it will have much more casualties, Mr. America. I was not stating there would be a war, only stating what would happen."

Alfred grits his teeth. He's not that good at controlling his anger.

"I will rip you apart, Commie."

On that comment, Ivan nods, still smiling, and takes his seat. Conversation amongst the room begins, easing the tension over time. I watch Alfred for quite some time. He's getting consulted by Arthur, who's probably yelling at him for what he said. I look around, searching for a familiar face to talk with. I find Ludwig, still sitting, looking a bit on edge.

"Good evening, Mr. Germany."

I greet him, bowing.

"Not much to be good about. How long will it be until a full out war with those two?"

I tilt my head.

"I'm not sure. Hopefully, it won't even start. But my doubts are increasing…"

Ludwig turns his head to me.

"If America keeps it up, we'll be taking sides overnight. If Arthur doesn't keep him in li-"

An ear bursting noise fills the room. A gunshot. One of the windows on the far end of the room is shattered. I look at Ludwig, who looks at me. We exchange glances, then search the room, hoping everything was okay. But it wasn't. I look across the table to see either England or America's back, kneeled over, facing me. I sprint around the table, hoping that it wasn't what I thought it was. I knew it was, but I wish it didn't happen now. I see England, on the ground, lying in a pool of fresh blood. He's choking violently, coughing up drops of blood onto the carpet. America's holding him, in tears.

"You're gonna be fine. Don't worry, buddy. Please, just be fine. Please."


End file.
